


Better This Way

by fanaticflic



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Comfort, Drug Use, Implied Murder, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, they both deserve and need each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanaticflic/pseuds/fanaticflic
Summary: Dark needs wilford's help to counteract the effects who killed markiplier will have on their reputations and the onslaught it will cause by hyping up the viewers but instead he finds the pink loving murderer enjoying an opium induced nap dark takes it as an opportunity to enjoy some rare clarity and quiet





	Better This Way

Wilford!!! Wilford!!!!!!! where the hell are you!!!!!!!!!!! Dark bellowed a ringing warning to all who heard. As he quickly marchd down one of the 360 hallways that manically mazified their mansion. This one had honey brown mahogany hardwood floors with canary yellow walls poke a dotted with random Bubblegum pink splotches identifying it as part of will’s side of the complex more, importantly though this corridor would supposedly lead him directly to Wilford. 

At least according to Google who said and dark quotes ( I think he went running down this one MAYBE ) end quote. Fuck whaT THE FUCK WAS google doing here anyways ??!! GRRRR if dark didn’t have more pressing matters at hand he’d finally trash that useless overestimated pawnshop rip-off!!! The image conjured up by that pleasing thought slightly soothed dark’s mounting stress, enough at least so that he didn’t tear out any strands again as he ran his hand through the developing rat’s den. That was his hair. FUCKING Hell mark you BASTARD You incorrigible bastard!!!! Dark gashed fangs clenched mark had revealed everything their past Their trauma, every fucking thing and all for views DAMMIT he had no RIGHT MONSTER! Dark needed to find Wilford they needed to plan prepare and defend against the oncoming onslaught. 

Dark zeroed in on a wide open stained door third from the last if Wilford was down here he had to be in that room it was the only one with an open door. The sporadic show host didn’t have the patience to close a door once entering or exiting a room to preoccupied with constructing chaos or coming up with the next big joke.  
Wilford dark called nearing the entryway wWlford get up we ha- ……………………………….. AHHHHARGHHH Dark groaned as he tested the elasticity of his face. Dark figured that pulling his face off his skull would be detrimental to his long term goals, so he sufficed for cupping his right hand over his mouth supported by his left as it restricted his waist. All in the effort to quell the irritated vomit and curses that fought to exit his body, as dark glared at the empty syringe lounging on the bedside table next to the lamp.  
Razor tip coated in a single toxic drop the pushed in plunger firmly held a remnant of heroin between the 1.5 and 0.5 marks. Dark raised his eyes to the boneless figure draped on the King sized bed, atop plush feathered blankets cradled in a fetal position black panted legs placed crookedly together right leg drooping in front of the left. Bright yellow button up ruined with wrinkles opened around his blue veined neck, Pink suspender straps dangling over and under his torso left sleeve rolled up to his armpit his arm safely sheltered against his chest while his head molded itself into the fabric and flesh of his right arm. 

Wilford’s eyes and nose were hidden by the painted on pink puff of hair that dominated Wilford’s head a few strands blending into his stool bar mustache. Dark knew if he pulled back will’s left arm he’d find an angry blue bruise centered around a tiny pin prick like hole. The blue bruise would then be spread out through his veins which would be raging, pushing against Wilford’s skin as if they wanted to burst in anger at having been forced to funnel the poison through their master’s body. The reason why the heroin caused such a colorful reaction was because after dark found out that Wilford’s dealer was diluting his batches with meth. He immediately murdered the bastard and set a up a well-ventilated shack near the green house. Where Wilford could make his own supply and safely carry on his addiction under Dark’s supervision, but Wilford liked to add his own ingredients one of which was flavored powder flavors such as bubblegum or blueberries. They were the reason behind the irritated veins pulsing along Wilford’s milky pale skin Wilford said it made his mouth taste delicious like fresh baked pie and that it was a wonderful surprise to wake up to. 

 

Dark didn’t care what he added it’s not like the drug or powder could kill him no matter how much of the two he took. Besides the heroin induced stupors were the closest thing to sleep Wilford could get. Which was a lot more then dark could say for himself, he no longer had time for sleep he had to much to do. They both did what with all the scheming planning organizing and murder that needed to be done. Especially now with Mark’s self-imposed shit storm but Wilford had always been the more-easy going of the two  
The one who enforced play time ( a cute title he liked to place on his numerous addictions) as if it were some sort of natural law. While Dark just saw it as an unnecessary waste of time and effort that being said dark knew (but would be damned to hell before he even thought of confessing) that some of his most brilliant plans came after an hour or so of forced relaxation courtesy of Wilford. Dark turned back to the thick oak wood door sealing it closed with natural and unnatural locks and safeguards so that no outside intrusion could see what he was about to do or violate this fleeting moment of vulnerable serenity. 

Dark then stalked towards will’s sleeping frame carefully situating himself on the upper part of the king sized bed his shoulder rubbing against the sleek twisted gold glazed metal that made up the head board. His right thigh barely being brushed with the tips of Wilford’s tangled hair. Dark dug his talons into his knees holding them firmly against the sturdy yet comfortable mattress beneath. His body stiff and rigid as dark strained all his sense trying to detect any indication of a potential threat. After a few minutes of visible silence slightly penetrated by the slow and seldom beats of Wilford’s heart, Dark decided that he was safe enough to proceed with his decision. He quietly placed his claws on either side of Wilford’s face, with enough pressure to ensure a proper hold on the pink obsessed prankster but not to harm. Dark was not displeased or angry with the spastic sharp-shooter, so he saw no point in causing pain. Dark than lifted Wilford’s head and pulled it toward him the only evidence dark observed that Wilford acknowledged any of dark’s mechanisms on his body, was a rushed three second fluttering of dope dimmed eyes and a light groan that seemed unable to decide to remain a groan or to transform itself into a throng of unintelligible mumbles, before it died down into drugged silence. 

Dark lowered Wilford’s face directly on his lap Wilfod’s left cheek softly cradled by Dark’s $ 850 Armani suit pant leg Dark was willing to risk drool stains, he had plenty of other suits also he’d make sure Wilford paid for any damage. Once he had woken from his fog. Dark raised his head and focused his attention on the wall before him. Following it’s garish canary yellow and bubblegum pink striped wall paper, all the way to the smooth surface of the deep brown door. The only entrance to the outside world where the reality of their madness would soon destroy the tranquility the room afforded them. Dark continued to stare at the wall and not at his oblivious companion nor at his own hand, which was repeatedly combing itself through Wilford’s soft hair. Savoring the difference in texture of each and every colored strand as if it were something new and preciously valuable. Dark knew what his limp was doing for he was the one directing it’s movement, but he refused to acknowledge it. 

 

He refused to acknowledge that he was still capable of such affection a weakness that was unforgivable, even if it was directed at his only friend. As if sensing dark’s buried sentiment Wilford began to stir both his eyes and head began to weakly flutter upward as if they were pulling against a physical chain. Rather than a drugged delirium even though he could feel will’s movements. Dark did not stop staring at the wall nor did he halt his hands movements dismissing Wilford’s slight bopping on and off his lap as some sort of natural muscle spasm or seizure brought on by the hero- D-Da-Damien? Will gasped………………………………………… yes …. Cornel dark whispered back  
freezing his body his very heart ensuring that nothing would drown out any squeak of a reply from his old friends mind but all he was met with was sweet silence Wilford had resettled himself back onto dark’s lap and whatever remained of wilford’s past incarnation delved back into the abyss of the blocked and forgotten past where it belonged. Dark let slip a rare and fleeting gentle smirk that spread across his colorless face as he resumed his petting of Wilford, his eyes never leaving the wall. 

 

They maybe monsters him and Wilford and their humanity may have been torn and lost in the destruction of their minds, but Dark knew to the very depths of his ragged soul that him and Wilford 

were better friends this way.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all like it please give me comments and Kudos if you do


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